


Light in 'No-Man's-Land'

by RAW_SYNTH3TICA



Category: War Horse (2011)
Genre: Anal, Angsty Schmoop, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingering, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, M/M, Military Kink, Military Rank, Oral, Sappy, Slash, Trench Warfare, WAFF, World War I, love sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 05:30:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAW_SYNTH3TICA/pseuds/RAW_SYNTH3TICA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Longing for Albert leaves little to the body at a loss of what to do next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light in 'No-Man's-Land'

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sure the original fic is going to get deleted, so it's new home is here on Ao3~!  
> well, this is an epilogue to a fic that i wrote, (My first 'War Horse' fic featuring Albert Narracott+Captain Nicholls) & FINALLY the wuv is conssumated- you'll see what i mean shortly. :3  
> Originally posted 7/6/12

Albert lay alone where he fell, rain feeling as nothing but heavy pinpoints of deadweight against cold humidity stabbing his face and open eyes. Mortar and howitzers forced his body to twitch as his fingers shakily gripped his coat’s twisted hem, he heard his eyes click inside his head as his lids closed over and over the slightly raised centers of his eyeballs, and the muscles inside his sockets strain painfully in every which direction. He stayed on his back, face to the dense sky for countless minutes since the sun fell behind the sandbags, freezing liquid oozing on the borders of his eyelids as he stared straight ahead. He blinked furiously until the skin between his lashes and brows quivered in soreness, shouts and screams pierced his ears suddenly, the tragic sounds shattering his soul. 

“I’m Here!” the soldier shouted, his voice drowned and conquered by the instant whistle that forced smoke down his throat and muddy debris into his mouth, he coughed, his lungs and chest heaving with the taste of the blood-soaked battlefield, he gasped and sputtered. 

No hands grabbed his weightless arms, no voice yelled through the artillery fire to shake him alive, no screams pierced the ringing aluminum veil in his ear, he could feel his lead tongue work, his lips stretch and lungs expand as he yelled into the thick air, “I’m Here! Someone, I’m Here! I’m Here! I’m Here! Anyone-!” 

Albert rolled over onto his elbows and crawled as low as he could below the overhead whizzing and booming, he ducked and curled up as a hand grenade left his ears leaking warmth and at a loss with his senses. The ground shook, the world vibrated and sucked his fingers in greedily into the already overcrowded, muddy land; still, his ears refused to relay sounds, even the terrible, into his helmet. The multihued smoke and bomb fumes once visible now spared his desperate sight, the soldier lay a moment under a telltale scent of strong and usually explosion-protrusive smoke, he realized all too soon the reasons why he had lesser of a chance to live. One, he could not see past the black wall before his eyes. Two, there is a slim chance the ringing would soon go away, but with blood quickly filling and hardening in his ears, he would be going home deaf. Three, he connected every face he could remember to a box behind horse-drawn wagons. Four…

On the verge of pleading, a body once alive or already blissfully dead, flew straight into his own, blocking more falling debris from the sky. Dreadful reality’s hands set Albert free, where once laying the in middle of a field was an invitation for bullets now felt lesser to the dandelion’s wind-pirouetting seeds. He opened his eyes to the clouds forming in the sky, then a dark muzzle invaded his view, Joey sniffed his elbows folded under his head and nipped at the young man’s vest pockets. A calming sense of peace and overpowering grogginess overcame him, letting his eyes close over the peaceful world only hidden in the newspaper’s pages and the faces of men who have already seen war. The chance of one to a million seemed at impossible odds of ever becoming real in such a small place as Devon, he felt himself drop off to serene dreams and hopeful somethings that the future promised. 

Albert sat up alert as a thousand tongues of rolling thunder roared overhead, he blinked but felt a weight on his brows and eyes, the worse possibility first came to mind: he was blind. The good thing was that his hearing returned, he gripped the soft sheets folded about his waist and laced through his fingers. He could feel a damp wetness hanging in the air, rain pelting the echoing sheet metal roof, he smelled faintly iodine, soup and alcohol, bread and creamed butter. Instinctively, he lost himself within scents and sensations which could only make him recall home: working himself to the marrow plowing the field with Joey, then watching as his mother prepared hot turnip and cabbage broth while he changed into dry clothes, yet back then, the rain was gentler as if wishing congratulations on completing the turnover of the vegetable plot. 

He could not help the terrible flinch brought on in his body when a warm palm met his shoulder, a voice quietly shushed his loudly juddering breaths, “It’s okay, Albert. You’re safe.” 

“Captain Nicholls?” the young soldier gasped as recognition lit inside his memory, he patted awkwardly to the hand, then up the arm until he could feel a nodding head. He threw himself into the man’s arms and clung as if death threatened to lock him away, tears drew apart the sweetness of his dream and poured their hope into the elder man’s embrace, his fingers known through and through with the battlegrounds now felt the warmth’s strangeness. The same palm went up to stroke the sweat-matted hair as the other drew the shuddering body closer by the waist, Albert’s fragile world rebuilt slowly from the broken foundations upward. His mind wandering about in search for things easily found but just as easily lost, then the thought of Joey came to, he lifted his gauze-blinded face away from the chest and asked quietly, “What about Joey? Is he alright?” 

“He and his snappy friend are right as chin whiskers,” the captain answered, the young man suddenly had the urge to scratch the bandages but was quickly shooed away by a gentle hand, “They’ve taken to the stable for the night.” 

“Friend?” Albert’s lips dropped slightly open, Captain Nicholls found himself staring as a small voice gasped, “Did he bring a mare with you both?” 

“Luckily not, Albert. A shine they both took to the other the day they shared a stall, Joey and Topthorn,” he laughed even as a smile hesitantly spread over the only visible feature on the young soldier’s face, he whispered into their own private joke, “Not even a mare nickering ‘come on hither’ could derail that friendship. The boys stuck fast to their conjoint tethers.” 

The young man stifled a laugh, but after a time realized that Joe was Alive, he asked shyly, catching himself on near-impossible physical feats, “May I see them-er, I mean visit the horses?” 

“Your wellbeing is more the crucial point of the matter, mister Narracott. I would really hate to see the sickness catch you,” Captain Nicholls explained, for one to keep his barely survived companion from ever leaving his sight, the other; minor and hopefully temporary shellshock was easier being treated than pneumonia. 

“Nearly catching my death more fatal than a cough almost had me done in, sir,” Albert stated, his voice teetering on the edge between hardly speaking and sobbing, those bruised hands took hold of the captain’s shoulders, the face drawing in but leaving space to leave them speaking face to face, “Please, all I ask is that I have a look see at Joey, to see if he’s alright. Please, sir?” 

“Is this coming from the boy who claimed to be nineteen?” the captain hated to bring the younger man’s spirits down, he did it in good faith so as to help Albert heal quicker, the young man turned pink under the bandages, twin streaks seeping out from under the gauze wrapped about his eyes, the slighter shoulders began to quake in his grasp. 

“I’m an officer just the same, Captain. I’ve come all this way and gone before artillery fire and mines to bring Joey home. Please, sir, have a heart,” the young man whispered shakily so as not to wake or scare his surely bedridden companions, he poured out all his sadness, his insistent loneliness and the enemy of worry which plagued him since Joey was sold, “I can’t be tied to a bed just because a square meter of gauze tells you so,” Albert continued, the heartbreak in his voice so clear that Captain Nicholls found himself not only staring, but taking both shaky palms into his hands and standing before the young man’s bed, yet the young soldier followed his superior to his feet, “Now, if you please, I must see my horse.” 

“We’ll need a blanket,” the captain informed a passing nurse with an admiring smile to accompany the slowly dissipating air about them two, he wrapped a woolen blanket about the young man and shooed away the girl when she motioned to putting on the blinded soldier’s boots, Nicholls took the well-worn leather pair in hand and took Albert’s unsure left palm in his grasp. 

He slowly guided the bruised fingers to his right shoulder as he knelt to allow a physical balance to exist between them, upon one knee, Nicholls took one of the naked but washed feet on his folded knee and unlaced the longboots while Albert waited. He knocked the heel against the concrete floor several times and turned the boot upside down until no more dirt or gravel tumbled out, he did the same for the other shoe and took a pair of socks. Bunching the knitted wool neatly with his fingers, he gently placed them at Albert’s toes and slowly rolled up through the loose pajama legs, the young soldier chewed his lower lip in barely hid bashfulness as the end of his trousers were hiked up to the knee and the sock’s end gently rolled just below his kneecap. 

He shook uncontrollably more for his superior officer’s sake at the thought of the two accidentally crashing together in a heap, he felt as a warm hand went to wrap softly under the arc of his other foot and a bunched pillow of wool come in contact with his toe tips. Nicholls heard the quick and uneven breaths puff hotly into the combed parting on his crown, hardly having the will to concentrate, he rolled the sock over the foot, then the ankle, finally allowing the pants leg to fall once reaching under the half-tense kneecap. He put one clothed foot into a boot and gently tugged his way from the bottom shoestring on up to the knee, before making a neat double knotted bow, he continued on to the other and had Albert shift his weight. 

Once done, Captain Nicholls stood before his subordinate and took an idle hand clutching around the blanket end, he said, “Come, I’ll lead you to him.” 

Captain Nicholls at once heard a harsh pelting on the tin roof of their shelter, he unbuttoned his jacket and hung it over his arm above Albert’s head as they trudged through the gummy mud and balmy rain. The young soldier heard a whinny off in the distance, coming somewhere ahead of them, he forgot all sense of even being blind, he threw the blanket off and ran shouting, “Joey!” 

He unraveled his bandages and sloshed in the grimy slipperiness squishing under his quickly falling boots, Nicholls by that time caught him before he ran straight into the stable doors and put the half-soggy military coat about his shoulders. The commanding officer caught his breath while Albert finally began to shiver against his chest in suddenly realized chill, he unbolted a door and the young man followed. 

Inside the barn-turned-stables, Albert squinted and blinked away as many veils the mustard gas allowed, at first seeing dull shapes surrounding him, two hands went to his shoulder as a whisper tickled his ear, “They’re here.” 

He took a step forward, hearing straw and hay crackle beneath his boots, he tread along softly so as to not spook any horses, somewhere through the labyrinth of stalls came a quiet nickering, he felt with his fingers along the smoothed planks and the untidily kept ground with his boot tip. Damp muzzles came to the tops of his hands and his elbows to survey the pair as they slowly crunched along, Albert mumbled nervously, “Joey! Here boy!” 

He stopped, put his palms together while making a kettle-like formation with a hollow belly and coin-spaced spout, he blew through an opening made by his overlapped thumbs, the sound swirled within his joined hands, and whistled out from his parted fingers, emitting something close to an owl’s lazy hoot. Nicholls watched amazed as the young soldier led them both through a line of nearly identical heads and bodies to sounds akin to hooves scraping against board, until he stopped dead in his tracks and made that same owl-whistle. He reached to his left as a repetitive scraping continued, his hand came in contact first with whiskers, then a curious muzzle nudging at his fingers, Albert asked quietly while drawing himself a little closer to the stable his senses led him to, “Joey?” 

A low rumbling purr erupted from the horse’s chest as he palmed gently a smooth neck, which vibrated with the same deep grumbling, and a strong thud that moved the velvety skin below his fingers, Captain Nicholls said after a moment, “We wanted to be presentable for you.” 

“Hello, Joey! Hello, boy!” Albert gasped slightly breathlessly from holding his oxygen intake for too long, he threw his arms around the large neck, and at once lumbered over the stall’s door, he patted around the horse and checked for any sign that the horse was unwell, “You’re safe? You’re not hurt?” 

“He’s one of the most beautiful things ever seen between the fronts,” the captain chuckled while unbolting the stall and allowing himself in, he said when Albert’s hand came upon several bandages on the legs and a flank, “A tragically splendid beast he is.” 

Albert stood shocked, barely able to keep his balance as he swooned and knocked himself back against a stall behind him. The groomed tail of another swished and brushed upon the young soldier’s hand, he strained his arm in the vast dark for the source, coming upon a spine arched higher than his Joey’s, he stood unseeingly between the two gentle giants, stroking the area where their mane tapered off into glossy coats, he laughed quietly, “You must be Topthorn, eh?” 

The mighty thoroughbreds enjoyed very much to have a warm hand straying through their brushed mane, they both leaned closer until Albert stopped briefly to push the dark chestnut steed a half an arm’s width away. He choked back wild tears of joy that seeped through his mucus-laden lashes, a smile promising infinite happiness to the horses gleamed through the tragedy which kept him alert all those nights accompanied by endless booms and silence, Nicholls could only watch as his inferior officer hugged and vowed to the massive pair, red lips trembling as they spoke low of dreams hiding in Devon’s countryside. 

“Captain, may I stay the night with the horses?” his voice broke in held-in hope, but knew already he was asking for the world and more from his superior. 

“I’m afraid we have to leave,” Captain Nicholls informed quietly, since watching both horses doze quietly amidst Albert’s gentle petting and how tilling Mr. Lyons’ fields would all be behind them, he took both the young soldier’s hands and led him through the tiny slit-opening between Joey’s sleeping self and Topthorn’s stable, he quietly opened the gate before leading his inferior out, “We’re not the only ones who need sleep, dear boy. The horses also need their beauty rest for tomorrows’ activities.” 

“Sir?” the young man whispered, his voice broken and slightly worn from sobbing, his unseeing eyes unblinking as the red-ringed mustard gas-burned irises stared absently up at Nicholls, the cheeks glowing in similar shades as his inflamed eyes, he wrung his cut and bruised hands over and over as he quickly poured his inner sentiments, “I’m grateful- I’m v-Very grateful for you taking care of Joey for me. And-” 

Albert coughed once into his rain-damp sleeve and shivered, and soon began to breath in erratic gasps that he tried to quell, a chill from the air fought for the overtones in his warmed heart but hardly made a dint as he quietly continued, “A-and I’m happy you’re alive, also, sir. Never forget that.” 

Nicholls’ own heart jumped into his throat as he scrambled within his mind to work up anything to answer the young soldier, he instead stayed quiet as the young man broke the tin-pattering silence encasing them, “-If- if there was a way for me to repay you, sir, I would. Without a doubt, I’d do the same courtesy for you.” 

“And I you,” the captain said betwixt the dissipating air settling over them, he took his inferior, an arm over a shoulder and a hand before them since no light provided way, “Please, let’s get you tucked back in.” 

Albert whispered over his shoulder before his own hand could lose distance between himself and his horse, he brushed the warm diamond below Joey’s mane, the center where a swirl of hair trailed in gradient plumes of white, “Good night, Joey!” 

They left the stalls by some miracle while rain seemed as if to fall by the gallon per every square centimeter, Nicholls by then had half a mind not to allow his fancy to wander upon every insignificant flex of the soldier’s limb, which in turn created a long roll of muscle counteracting against one another, so much has changed about the boy from Devon whom used to Look and Act frail, but was actually a budding man. A man who would soon have a wife and many children to populate his cottage. That solidly wedged between kidnapping Albert and the horses, and ravishing him part-sensibly in the mud, he trudged on up a slightly blunt hill with the young man sopping on beside him. 

He opened the shelter door and dragged Albert through to the warmth of dry blankets and another round of hot soup, he turned to leave as a nurse came to aid the blinded soldier until a palm inched up the occupied wrist still holding the younger man, he said, “A good night to you, sir.” 

“Run along, lad, don’t let me keep you from sleeping,” Captain Nicholls answered back with a pat to the fevered cheek, he then watched as the nurse disappeared behind several curtains to strip away the sopped pajamas of Albert’s, he huffed in defeat and went his way to his cabin an empty bed that only served as a reminder that it was too wide and cold not to fit two warm bodies instead: His and Albert’s. 

Sopping and depressed with worry, Nicholls paced fourth and back, back and fourth on floorboards which proved his predated trail of wakefulness, by all his years like so could he not suppress the images reawakened by the young man. Since having gone out during a suppressing fire by the Allies did he happen upon someone he could not be sure to have known, covered in the battlefield’s clay and reshaped into the sum of war’s tragedy, he finally recognized Albert. He recalled hearing a bomb’s trademark jagged whistle scream by, without further thought, he jumped upon the motionless body and held on. Still as death but alive as electric wire, he hugged himself over the young soldier’s wide-eyed form, the millisecond clicks and thumps of shells hitting ground died away. The weight of Albert across his back made Nicholls recall a battered hand shuffle warmly through his hair, and a dazed whisper cutting the iron stillness, ‘Don’t worry, Joey… we’re going home… we’ll be home before the war can stop us… you’ll see, old boy…you’ll see…’ 

His one inspiration to be treated as fondly and preciously as Joey was fulfilled, but he Ached so agonizingly for more, for Anything more that would satisfy him for a lifetime ahead. He remembered jogging as best he could with new weight on his back as the same hand stroking his hair began brushing circles over his shoulder and arms, warm breath puffing sleep’s rhythm against his neck, until finally, they arrived in an Allied dugout, then began the painful yearning depression replaced by Love. Yes, love. His heart swelling with the feeling. 

“Bollix,” Captain Nicholls cursed when catching sight of the new day peeking behind swept clouds into the sills of his cabin, he prepared a washbasin full of hot water from the outdated plumbing and a towel. 

He stripped knowingly out of his now-dried clothing and folded each article as he laid them on an unoccupied chair, he first washed and soaped his hair, then stepped in and began working a rag over his sleep-deprived limbs. The morning started slowly, first with a required shave, next adding his uniform to the new underwear, then tidying up the cabin in tight order before leaving to the supper hall. He did a quick once over and combed his hair in consistent neatness while keeping Albert in mind. Several townspeople from nearby refugee camps walked in and out freely from the busy shelter, either giving or receiving help, which Captain Nicholls had to bypass in order to find his much-missed cause of sudden ardor. 

Albert sat facing offside a table containing his breakfast with much concentration etching his innocent face, the superior officer approached with enthusiastic fascination as he observed the young man studying a folded page backed with wax paper, while it’s occupant rested with his uniform jacket and formal cap placed aside, the wide blue eyes void of bandages met his and shouted with a start, “Captain Nicholls!” 

“James Nicholls, mind you, Albert,” he said while taking a seat opposite to the soldier, a full hot plate and coffee finding space underneath his gaze as he smoothed a cloth napkin over the cup’s rim. 

“No, not at all, sir-” Albert hurriedly said but caught himself as an eyebrow arched at him playfully, he digested the given name he had been presented with and bashfully mumbled, “James.” 

The morning glare and shattered musing amplified by James’ frisky gazing had Albert’s mind doing flips, he quietly cleared his throat and reverted his weak eyes back to the page, he asked, “Looking at Joey makes you daydream?” 

“I was thinking of you,” the captain answered, his face giving nothing away besides the fact that he noticed a very slight diminish in the broken blood vessels in Albert’s eyes and his confused brows. 

The young soldier turned face to face to his superior officer and guiltily admitted, “I’m sorry I can’t say the same, James.” 

“Honestly, when I received a letter detailing of your death, I couldn’t think at all except that Joey was still out there, somewhere without me,” he explained as best he could without stumbling over his words, he laid the page down above his plate, he traced the sketched Joey’s outline, from ear tip to muzzle, from muzzle, to cheek until he forced himself to say, “My hope for you was there, James, but the letter was so…” 

“Blatant,” the superior officer said, his smile faltering in too-clearly remembered sadness at the thought of being forgotten so easily, they sipped their coffee in order to fill the expanding void separating them from each other, “Condolences of death to sad families are unfortunately forthright.” 

“I’m having a very hard time adjusting to the fact that you’re alive at all,” Albert chanced a peek at the captain, his eyes only gazing as far as a set of smiling lips, fingers cupped his chin, forcing their eyes to meet, Captain Nicholls gently ushered what the young man was hoping to hold back, “As if I should somehow want more, but will be selfish if I did, James.” 

The captain looked on in dismay, but leaving Albert with hope and having them dashed as easily was sure to hurt more, he noncommittally said before standing, “Don’t trouble yourself with trivial things.” 

Morning faded along with his stay after being court-martialed in another camp with provided jailing units, he stared out his barred window as another barrage of bangs shook the cell to it’s very foundations. Minute cracks filtered light in stark golden lightning bolt patterns up his trousers, Captain Nicholls pulled out from his draped uniform jacket a simple round, brass button. It was nothing special, but it belonged to Albert, the etched crests still distinguishable from having been brushed only a few times from it’s previous owner. The tiny insignia of a crown atop two crossed machine guns lay gleaming in his fingers, he brushed his thumb over the surface, memorizing each dip, every curve, every tiny flaw the object held. The ruling today wasn’t favorable: first, being that he fled as soon as he rode past the German forces, second, desertion was not only punishable, but also punishable by death, third, the only kills made were the ones he encountered first. 

He swept his hand through his hair and swung a leg into bed, he lay thinking of what could have been, what may have conspired that hour before he was to leave after breakfast to his hearing. Many things they could have done, so much they could have said, so little would they leave to the imagination of night, and yet, Captain Nicholls lay in a cot behind bars. His titles and medals of valor, honor and title stripped away to have other officers look down on him and instantly judge his thoughtless actions, even if he did in fact save a life: Albert’s. Spending his time counting his heartbeats and wondering if they coincided with his newly-reacquainted beloved’s, he passed time slowly in his calmed state. Hours gradually melting away, but being steadily interrupted by the sudden clatter of the door and a serving spoon ladling out from a steaming kettle, his cup being filled with warm ale, and bread being broken upon his crumb-dusted plate. 

Soon after exchanging awkward greetings, the soldiers of the kitchens left him in peace with his platter losing heat and his drink cooling, he dreamed onward with his boot locked upon the other, his arms cradling his head in an easy pillow. Long reminiscing of Albert lulled him deeply into a comfortable nap on his cot, but as he glanced aside to his meal, one of the servers politely covered his supper with a cloth in order to keep frequently falling debris off the main ingredients. He then finds himself at the table, picking steadily at his meal, a sip here, a bite there, chewing, then repeating. Captain Nicholls finished his meal by drowning his last bite in the remainder of draft, he paced about once more as sleep continued to evade him. 

Days passed in a lifetime before Captain Nicholls received a knock on his cell door, politely announcing a visitor, he turned from the tiny window surrounded by concrete walls to acknowledge his lawyer. Albert edged in as the door shut and lock clanked into place behind him inside the door, he pulled off his officer’s cap and placed it on the table. The superior officer sidestepped the whole idea of acting on his reoccurring idea, and incomplete thought of bewitching the young man as soon as he saw a troubled expression on the naive face, he kept his hands interlocked behind his back and expression respectful since it seemed to keep his body behaved under his love-starved form. 

“I’ve searched everywhere for you, Captain Nicholls. They told me you were here,” Albert spoke, his blue eyes meeting the poised green ones’, he nervously bit his lip and picked at the pleated hem of his ceremonial uniform trousers. 

“So you’ve found me,” Captain Nicholls chuckled lightly, closing the distance between them with a few steps and his hand reaching in salutations. 

Albert wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and grasped the palm warmly, shaking several times before letting go, he asked offhandedly, “How’re they treating you?” 

“Better than most, no worse than few I’m afraid,” the superior officer smiled, whilst keeping the secret of his incarceration a tight-lipped half truth. 

“That’s good,” the young soldier answered, his fidgeting becoming almost a dance between nerves and amusement. 

“Please,” Captain Nicholls invited, his hand motioning to the empty chair before his friend, he stated casually sheepishly, “Occupying a cell doesn’t excuse my lack as being a better host.” 

“Thank you,” Albert said, nervously taking the offered seat, he twisted and wrung his hands as the man seated before him patiently waited, bombs counting off their heartbeats he looked up from his lap and declared almost too earnestly, “I came to thank you for saving Joey and Topthorn’s life.” 

“No need, Albert,” the officer held up his hand to halt several words, he smiled genuinely, “They were both more than compliant and competent, almost like real soldiers.” 

“What a relief!” the young man fidgeted whilst green eyes roamed his face for signs of revulsion, only slight lapse in attention drew conclusions of weariness, fatigue, and the very real love sickness that seemed to permeate every tortured and betrayed soul in the war. He flinched at distant blasts and booms, Captain Nicholls tried to reach any way he could to soothe away phantom-like tremors in Albert’s limbs, and clear his vision of fearful tears waiting to fall, he instead dropped his voice: 

“Where most boys dared not stop dreaming of, where men fear to tread, Joey has done with half their alarm,” he continued as he beckoned the blue eyes to stray from the window and back to his, he strode over to his seat, and knelt to the young man’s level. Albert leaned down and held on for dear life to the warmth of the fraternal man, gentle arms encircled him soundlessly as he drank in the moment’s beauty, the complete and utter awe of shutting out sounds of death to welcome the simple motion of peace. A whisper and a single stroke through his hair undid the tight binds he had over his tears, “So have you, Albert. Well done, you’ll be home in time for your real nineteenth birthday.” 

All his concentration over finding Joey for the past few years made awkward tears, as he forgot also how to cry. Most men and boys shouted and damned the opposing forces while letting their tears free, others curled up into a ball and wailed mindlessly, more than some caught themselves while doing everyday routines in the trenches, not today where the fighting never moved nor gave so much as a hair. Albert allowed his sob to flow out from his body, free of terror, free of blood, free of the overwhelming constant panic, and free of death within a breath’s space. Once starting, he felt as if he were draining an entire sea’s league of sorrow, but instead reminded himself that danger was no longer near, that he had finally reached safety, and protection was literally in his grasp. When his heart finally gave way to hope, he disentangled himself and wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, very ungentlemanly, but it instantly had Captain Nicholls blushing. 

“Captain?” he hiccupped helplessly as he struggled to regain bearings on his broken voice, his boyish face in a state of flush, “You’ll see me and Joey off back on the ferryboat to Devon, won’t you? Will they let you?” 

“I fear not, my boy,” the captain answered, though it displeased him and broke both their spirits, he knew he had not the heart to lie so quickly, “No piece of good fortune has befallen me in the form of permission as such, nor to the stabled.” 

“What’s going to become of them? The horses and Joey?” the young man asked, his voice and gaze dropping all the while, not before shooting back up in surprise. 

“Auction,” Captain Nicholls explained, “It’s become policy after the horses break from battle. I can claim Joey, but Topthorn will have to be bought.” 

“Is there anything that can be done? For his friend?” he questioned, wishing and praying that anywhere but far from Joey would be a horse awaiting also to share a much-deserved paradise in Devon. 

“There is no other way except to buy him after their discharge,” the superior officer said, he took both slightly smaller shoulders in hand and smiled as warmly as he thought Platonically appropriate, “I will help you any way I can, Albert, but you will have to be patient just like the rest of us.” 

“Thank you, captain,” Albert nodded and inquired politely, but stopped mid-sentence as an eyebrow familiarly arched, “Will you tell me, -James, of your ride through?” 

“It started with a bang and ended with a bang, simple and boring,” Captain Nicholls huffed in defeat as an even harsher flush rose from his inferior officer’s cheeks, he laid his hands on his own knees, one raised and the other fully facing the floor to stabilize him. 

Albert did not at all seem to notice as stars began to twinkle in his blue eyes, he asked in subtle expectation, “Was Joey good?” 

“Oh, he was Glorious,” enthusiasm burned in the close calls and thrills that memory provided as he quickly recovered, Captain Nicholls cleared his throat and said, “We rode, the trio of us, through the enemy lines then into France.” 

Slow anger took hold of Albert, he scolded meekly, “You had a chance of getting away with the horses, why didn’t you?” 

“There was an opportunity, I thought, that you were assigned to the Front, Albert,” the captain’s answer adequately hushed them both, he asked after witnessing much conflicting on the young soldier’s expression, “Was I wrong to having just saved your life?” 

Albert all but swallowed his tongue in sudden shyness over choosing the lesser of two evils, or rather, the greater of two blessings, he fought the will to scold the officer again, “Thank you again, captain, but yes. It was wrong of you-!” 

“Albert,” Captain Nicholls said, half ready to lose himself laughing over spilled milk, but regained composure once more, “Young mister Narracott, you are alive, so is Joey and Topthorn, also. What more is there to argue about?” 

“Nothing else, I think,” the young officer caught himself in the already solved question, that there was no doubt what he would choose given the situation, a loud knock jarred their attention to the door, he apologetically mumbled, “That’s me.” 

Albert rose as Captain Nicholls followed and took a step back, they unsurely clasped their hands together in an unpromising farewell, the young officer gulped quietly, “Please be safe.” 

“I’ll try for your sake, Albert,” the captain answered, he gave a parting squeeze as they uneasily separated, “Take care of Joey.” 

“Time’s up,” the officer outside gruffly said, he locked the door as Albert exited and grunted, “Get a move on, sapper.” 

A week scraped by, then two, which then turned into an inching day by day. Captain Nicholls lay awake once again, his lack of sleep not giving credit to the fire going off in succession, first to the earshot of north, then to the south, the center front lines and between each unit on the offensive. Albert plagued is mind, each bat of a lash, every syllable, each intake of breath and hammering in his chest when he was nervous. For the unknown hours ticking by in a single breath, he opened his eyes to the regularly illuminating ceilings and wall, more concrete dust falling behind the jacket draped over his face and upper body. The next day brought no already known surprises, being that he was allowed back into duty as a stretcher bearer and unofficial commanding officer. Death was sure on it’s way, but neither Albert nor he knew when it was coming to overwhelm them both. 

…October 10, 1919...-

Joey whinnied in his unopened stable, breaking Albert’s continuous eye contact from the sketch that survived the war in his breast pocket. He pushed aside the feeling of guilt for having not saved Topthorn from the butcher that morning of his discharge, he put the page back into it’s leather folder and strode to his horse, “There, there, Cheer up! Topthorn should be reaching dock any time now, Joey.” 

“Just you wait and see. He’ll be as big and mean as a puppy, just as you remembered him,” he smiled, where Joey sensed his owner’s plight with his own friend missing, Albert wiped a stray tear as he stood next to his horse and admired the height separating them, “If the war took so much a hand from your hoof, we’d be seeing eye to eye about now.” 

“Albie! Breakfast!” He heard his mother call from the cottage next door, he gently patted his steed reassuringly as he quickly scooped up a mound of hay with a pitchfork, and tossed the dried sprigs into a trough beside Joey, he wiped his hands and said, “The Tavistock Fair expects us, Joey. We’re best to be leaving as soon as breakfast’s over.” 

Albert locked up the barn and hopped over the stacked stone fence, the fussy white gander following after, he entered his home while his mother swept a broom after the goose, she pushed his body all the while exclaiming, “Shoo, Harold! Off with you!” 

“Have a seat, Albie,” his mother said, laying the broom aside and smoothing out her apron. Already up in his room, he quickly packed his civilian formal wear and formal boots into a saddlebag and tucked Captain Nicholls’ leather folder into the bag and shimmied out of his clothing fit for everyday toiling. He glanced to his bed and spotted his fine Sunday linen washed, dried and folded for the day, he quickly, yet meticulously put on the clothes. Recalling his shoes still near the hearth, he stepped out and padded in his socks down to the little iron stove where his shoes lay dry. 

Albert righted his shoes and began wiggling his feet in until his father appeared with a pair of splendid leather boots, the unsteady hands gave the pair to the young man, where he was about to readily refuse, his father said, “They were mine when I was your age. After coming home from Africa, couldn’t bear stepping into them again.” 

“They’re wonderful, dad!” the young man proclaimed, he turned the smooth dark leather over in his hands, not a single wrinkle deep enough to create creases lined the smooth toe and ankle areas, he looked up to his father, “Are you sure? They’ll get dirty on the ride to Tavistock.” 

“A little mud does a shoe good, Albie,” his father answered, putting a hand over his son’s shoulder, “Your mother and I…we’re proud of you, Albie.” 

“My father gave me the means and the strength,” Albert smiled, his chest swelling from the words his father rarely passed, he playfully added, “Mum gave me cause.” 

“They’ll be missin’ ya at the fair,” an aged hand reached up and ruffled his hair, the gruff voice finally allowing them to break away, “Isn’t it time you rode to the festival?” 

“Sure,” Albert smiled as his father proceeded into the stable for Joey, he stepped carefully into the boots, his feet sliding in surely as if Captain Nicholls were guiding him, his heart stopped along with his breaths. 

“My flighty son and his impulsive father,” his mother came mumbling into the room, he soon after coughed nervously and slipped his foot into the other boot, the tastefully thin soles bringing him closer to the ground than his usual wood and rubber blend. He sat hardly a minute after quickly forking down whatever lay on his plate and filled his cup, his mother followed him out with his saddlebag before her son forgot his things, she shouted after he started Joey off with a flying leap over their stone hedge, “Please be careful, Albie!” 

“As always, mum!” Albert laughed over his shoulder to his mother’s chagrin, her arms flying to her chest as he cut clear over the road. 

“Alb-!” she screamed, barely catching her voice as her son waved to his parents while Joey triumphantly pawed the air with his two front hooves, Albert nudged his thoroughbred forward at a blistering run, “Albert Narracott, rein in that horse!” 

He grinned and shouted back, “Eventually!” 

Riding Joey was always one of Albert’s greatest joys, as if his saddle were planted atop a raging sea torrent, a single feather floating on storm winds, a beautiful beast so reckless and noble, yet so gentle in all ways the word implied. The horse easily turned to the very slight pull of reins as they neared bridges and forks in the road, laughing away he did and made sure to keep Joey completely aware of the terrain change, they rode on to the town of Tavistock or referred to as the ‘Tavvystock’. People from neighboring areas of Devon and further west drew by the cartloads of children as herders shooed geese along the road, prized animals and several on foot cut through sheep pastures and trails as Joey done those few seconds they were seen, and in a blink of an eye, Joey and Albert put another kilometer behind them over a knoll. The beautiful horse had a stride, a rhythm consisting of jogging over slight inclines and flats, then running up hills, then charging with both hooves atop fences. 

Colorful tents and the smell of market goods drifted the last few kilometers before Joey came to a trotting halt in front of the grassy fairgrounds, children running between tents and fathers near the drafts with their cups, the mothers picking the best geese for their dinner tables. Albert sighed as he dismounted and walked his mount cautiously to a nearby stable, he rented Joey a space and leased a single room in case the ale was truly rumored heartier than the years’ before. He quickly pulled off his clothing and fixed on a gray green button up, and a pair of light woolen trousers and his uniform jacket, it’s distinguishing stripes as a First Class Private in three dark arrows lining his right elbow sleeve. He combed and lightly pomaded his hair to sweep in dark blonde brown waves off to his right, he stepped back into his father’s boots and fixed his collar, his cap slipping over his crown without difficulty and fitting with familiar ease against his forehead. 

Albert glanced at the mirror and snapped the undone buttons over his breast pockets and made his way down back into the stables, the thoroughbred burred lightly in his muzzle as his owner approached, he stared up at his mount whom kept his muzzle raised and flanks tense as he stood patiently for a familiar scent: Topthorn’s, “Hello, you too.” 

“I know you miss him, Joey, but you’ll have to let him go…” the young man sounded to himself as a boy who had not heart to let his wishes go, or his own musings unanswered, the hope welling since being discharged emptied as he stared into Joey’s warm worried eyes, those velvety nostrils flaring in hapless faith for his friend, he gently took his horse by the bridal halter until they were face to face, his throat choked the words from him as he whispered brokenly, “…he’s not coming back, and even if he did, what Used to exist between you two can only be in your dreams.” 

“Look at me, Joey,” the great head swayed from side to side as the distraught owner tried to keep the white-rimmed eyes away from other stalls, away from the empty doorway where light shined almost too cheerily, he mumbled into the cheek, “All our lives it’s just been the two of us, and it’s never changed.” 

“Do you understand me, Joey?” his lips moved over the short hairs along his jaw as he spoke, he drew in a shaky breath as his palms smoothed away a few straws in Joey’s mane, he patted the twitching neck and said, “ I’ll never let another take you away again. It’s only you and me now. Okay?” 

“Aye, boy, you talking to that horse? He’ll never say nothin’ back, I tell you,” a voice gruffly poked through the distant neighing, Albert whipped his head around to a stiffly heavy who looked more employed at wrestling bulls than tending horses. 

“Sometimes not saying anything at all is all you need to hear, sir,” the young man answered, backing away and exiting the stall into the main walkway, he glanced over at Joey who stretched his long neck out toward the new horse, the nostrils expanding in wonder, “Keep his stall clean and water fresh. I’ll be needing him soon.” 

“I betcha never met a horse without his teeth nailed shut from talking in excess, your liege,” the man huffed as he led the other horse into the stall next to Joey, where the two horses sniffed and nudged knowingly, “He’s a funny mite you carry on your back he is.” 

Albert rushed back over to the door as he recognized Topthorn, the clean black as if he were dipped in ink and dusted in coal powder, save for a tiny white star peeking beneath the mane between his ears, he asked before he could form the words in his head, “Sir! The owner of that horse-is he?” 

“Oh, some shaggy-faced lad from France he was,” the man informed easily, snapping his suspenders over his chest and watching the horses nip at one another as Albert did, “Told me he bought this horse several days ago at a public market.” 

“He wouldn’t happen to be named Captain Nicholls, would he?” the young man’s gaze shot to the keeper for answers, the heat in his face rising and seeming to pound in his sweaty palms. 

“No, boy, he gave me no name, just told me to keep this horse fed because he’s passing through, though there seems to be no other place to go on this island,” the man said leisurely brushing his fingers over his moustache and leaning all his weight on one foot. 

“Is he selling this horse?” the young man quickly questioned, since finding answers seemed more convenient from the owner instead. 

“There goes the lad now,” the man pointed to a receding shadow that exited and melted into the thousand-faced crowd of the Tavistock Fair. Albert’s legs rooted to the spot though he knew instinctually that he wanted to follow, he walked to the churning crowd and surveyed each face that passed or poked up through the teeming heads and bodies, his stomach dropped to the floor in defeat as the people lessened and seated themselves near the river for their noontime picnic. 

The caregiver nudged Albert’s arm and informed, “Page says they want all uniformed men at the staff and some Blighty fellow borrowed your horse.” 

The young man nodded, he trudged over to the staff through a maze of open shops and market tents, he arrived along with few his own age, but most in their mid-twenties and leant under a tree with cigarettes lit in their fingers. Albert tried neither to stare or linger in the shade, he went to the river’s edge where children pranced with their kites and parents and in-laws laughing away through their meals. He found his future slightly unsettling the longer he shuffled along invisibly through long whistling dry grass, trumpet and drums fanfare of approaching officers drew everyone’s attention. Another stifling crowd of spectators lined the street, waving their hats and handkerchiefs, children skipping behind the progression, whistling and cheering nearly wiping the fanfare out as easily as wind through a keyhole. 

Albert stumbled into line before the crowd had their eyes on the double handful of officers linked shoulder to shoulder down the cobblestone square, he took a rifle that was handed to him and quickly put the piece in a neutral pose. He stared straight ahead feeling as if the slightest mistake would have the Sergeant’s boots raining down on his back, but he couldn’t help looking out the corner of his eye. There he was! Captain Nicholls hardly trying to mask his smile as Topthorn marched with black knees high and front hooves taking crescent sweeps from the air, Joey right alongside carrying a Canadian officer. 

He nearly fainted as his superior officer dismounted and strode over before the line, those lips speaking loudly instead of shouting, “Attention!” 

He immediately obeyed, his ankles drawing apart, rifle butt aside his boot’s right toe and his right hand just keeping the tip at a forward laying angle, his back straight and chest forward, eyes set and chin raised slightly high. A curl in his lips played at the edges of his cheeks as Captain Nicholls easily paced up the line, upon meeting, he nodded to the young soldier and smirked, green eyes flashing once and leaving Albert in a swoon. 

“Present Arms!” came an order, the young soldier easily clicked his ankles and heels together as his arms drew the weapon up, and unto his shoulders, “Present Colours!” 

Two soldiers from the farthest ends marched stiffly toward the two bare staffs in the center of the square, then hooked the local flag up on a rope along with the Union Jack and drew them to the top, they tied off the ropes as the captain gave another command, “At Ease!” 

With so many children around and with such a festive occasion, they touched only upon jovial subjects of their formalities, Captain Nicholls called upon one of the officers as he began at the farthest end of the line with distinguishing medals, first mentioning the soldier’s name and rank, and the reason for their receiving their decoration. For hours it seemed with no end, Albert heard the heavy, yet sure steps above crunching gravel and the ongoing hailing, his arms and rifle nearly dropped as he heard the next words uttered: 

“First Class Private Albert Narracott,” the voice said, Albert stepped forward from his place in line and saluted before his superior officer. 

“Sir!” he winced at the sharp ringing his voice left as Captain Nicholls traded a smiling salute of his own, the young man stared up into the unblinking irises as a gloved hand reached behind to a large wooden box, apparent clinking and the whiz of leather on ribbon made them both stand straighter. 

“For saving your mate, a Corporal David Lyons, we give you the medal of Valor,” Captain Nicholls explained articulately as his fingers deftly pinned the medal atop Albert’s right breast pocket, his heart jumping and seeming to twist beneath the lightly brushing knuckles, he said after a moment taking in the grinning blue eyes, “At ease, Private Narracott.” 

Near the end, he lastly heard Corporal David Lyons receive a medal for his injuries. The box snapping emptily signaled to the townspeople to cheer, they threw wreaths and crowns of dried flowers about the men’s boots. 

“At ease, soldiers!” the captain shouted above the joyous crowd, they quieted only a few octaves for them to hear the next words before the festivities of Tavistock could begin, “You’ve done your King proud, and his people. Let us pray now that there won’t be a next time. Let us rejoice for the many brave men who fought like no other in No Man’s Land, and for the ones who’ve come home to their families!” 

Deafening torrential shouts of ‘God Save The King!’ met their ears, hands drew each man into hugs, strangers congratulating their homed soldiers, kisses on the cheek from many happy women had the men blending and bonding with amongst the teeming crowds. Every touch was strange to Albert’s body, yet he recognized one, a single palm on his shoulder as the crowds livened the elsewhere around the many tents. 

“Hello, Albert,” the voice which seemed misplaced by reality as it carried a dream’s air lay in a smooth, unbraided cloth to the young man’s ears, he turned around to the wonderful sound. 

“Captain Nicholls,” he began unsteadily, as his eyes dropped to the suddenly interesting closeness of their boot-toes, “I thought the Front swallowed you up, never to return.” 

“My will many times quit, but my heart kept me from dying alone,” Captain Nicholls chuckled, his smile never leaving as he enfolded his arms to his back, “Come, walk with me.” 

“You mean- you weren’t promoted?” Albert sheepishly asked, his eyes falling low to see where only two medals lay in place of the buttoned breast pockets. 

“Stripped enough to only peel potatoes, they had me,” the captain laughed while they passed easily through many small venues, their strides reducing and slowing the constant bustle of children and the liveliness of the festival, “And yet I feel as if most of these titles are deserving of another owner.” 

“My father had difficulty being proud of himself,” Albert glanced up from below his visor, his hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets, he added solemnly as if trying to alleviate his superior’s hurt pride, his gaze shot back down to the cobblestones, “He clams up and won’t breathe a word to my mum about it.” 

“I’ll tell you when the time is right, Albert,” Captain Nicholls added, his tone thankful and appreciative toward the young man lumbering half-clumsily at his side, “Haven’t you met any pretty missies upon arriving back to your home?” 

“Most of the girls my age went on to the Red Cross and still haven’t returned, some of the women older than me are widows,” the young man shrugged, trying hard not to sound as if he missed his captain more than the hundreds of girls marched off to become nurses, he eclipsed his nonchalance with too terrible honesty, “I try making their husbands shine brighter than the medals of valor they get upon receiving a post from the unit’s commanding officer.” 

“I would’ve done the same in your position,” Captain Nicholls searched the downcast face for a bottled-up answer that he was sure to break their stretching silence, but instead asked a question before thinking how he might jar the topic, “How’ve you been since coming home?” 

“There was some trouble settling back into Devon, but all went well after Mister Lyons heard from his son how I saved him a bullet to the back,” Albert grinned boyishly triumphant to his superior officer’s absolute delight, his blue eyes still jumping stone to stone as his boots grazed over the smoothed tops, he licked his lips pink and added, “Dad and him butted heads over the ‘life debt’ hanging over his head, they struck a deal days later. No more rent, no more Mister Lyons.” 

“The fellow sounds like trouble the way you describe him. Is he?” the captain asked, he watched as a cheeky smile spread over Albert’s face and made his lashes open wider to reveal large blue irises, the face nodded enthusiastically, he then asked forthrightly, “Are you leaving back to your home?” 

“The Tavistock Fair comes around only once a year, of course I’m going to enjoy it, too. Most of my friends from here never came back from the tour. I might as well go it alone,” Albert nodded quickly, he asked afterwards, “Do you have any plans, Captain Nicholls? Aside from the mountains of tough business?” 

“The world can wait while I get my heart beating again,” Captain Nicholls said as he leaned forward slightly and brushed his lips softly to the young man’s, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of the plush, trembling lips stiffen, then delicately meld to his own. A sigh escaped him as he parted, he whispered amidst the uniform chaos about them, “You’re not alone, Albert. You’re never alone.” 

A relaxed calm of needing no words seeped through them just as surely as the heat of the early noon sun, Albert found himself on the edge of laughing, but instead satisfied himself with a shy smile as he quietly followed Captain Nicholls wherever those green eyes directed him to go. Little changed in the linear direction they were going, except that a third floor at the top, the captain’s key fit into the slot under a knob as he twisted the key and unlocked the door. 

Once inside, he pushed Albert bodily into the nearest wall as he threw off his cap and unbuttoned his jacket without pulling his gaze away from the shy face, the young man just about jumped out of his skin as a chin drew his eyes from the floor and to the pair burning into him. Lips soft and firm met Albert’s right cheekbone, the gentle and chaste gesture left the him breathless as the plush, yet slightly pointed upper lip traced down to his dimple, pressing so lightly that he nearly felt their cold absence before a hot breath flowered and filtered through his gasp. A palm usually so gentle and at times giving, greedily stole around his waist, kneading his hipbone and venturing upward until his nape lay within the captain’s eager grasp, the thumb and fingers squeezing, exploring within the range between his shivering jugular and behind his ear. The other hand went to unbuckle and unbutton Albert’s uniform jacket, undone and stripped away, he tossed the article away in the same manner and proceeded to feed his inner fires, which burned since the day they met. 

Captain Nicholls leaned his whole body against the slighter weight of his inferior officer, the unoccupied hand whipping the tie off his button up and tossing it to the ground, he tried with all his might to be gentle, slow and considerate. Yet, how the young man stared so adorably miserably at him as he stripped off the cap made his inner desire on it’s face, begging to be unleashed and set loose, his lips opened slightly as he scraped his teeth along Albert’s jawbone and followed with the inner skin of his lips. He drew nothing less than rushed sighs and the occasional whimper as he licked over the pale ear, his warm tongue dipping into the very slight hollow under the ear’s lobe. He closed his teeth softly over the gently sloping bell of skin of his earlobe and gave one agonizingly breathy tug, the one action of countless that he dreamed over and over, hours and endless hours of doing to this young man. 

Having not found his voice yet, Albert felt the shudders forced from his body quake through him and prickle his skin in the sunlight shining upon he and Captain Nicholls. The warmth and breath in his ear partially masking such lusty groans made his head fall back, the tongue kept behind the perfect teeth swept behind his earlobe while the upper teeth lay lodged, his knees buckled. Arms caught him before he fell, every rigid limb twitched with tight muscles pulling taught, Captain Nicholls kept the arm around the young man’s body which then connected to his nape where it was, the other once unoccupied arm pulled him close, so much so that his quick gasps tapered into trapped wheezing groans. He struggled to breathe, his chest fluttering so deliciously constrictively that he cared less to make use of his lungs other than to stay conscious. 

Somewhere along between when a hand dove under his uniform jacket and after the palm resting so comfortably behind his neck angled his chin aside, Albert mustered up enough courage to contain his superior’s all-consuming hunger which ate him alive, “S-sir! Please-!” 

“Should I have asked for your permission, mister Narracott? Or has the sweetness of my wiles gone sour?” the low voice mumbled against his ear between licking, teeth-tugging and leaving hot breath on heavily articulated syllables, the young man nearly fainted from having not ever been in such a dilemma to stop or continue. 

“I’m a little lightheaded, sir, I beg of you not to do that again,” Albert squeaked as a thigh brushed none-too accidentally against the protrusion hidden behind his uniform and below his captain’s hip, he shuffled back as far as the thin barrier of cloth allowed, he gulped before whispering low as the lips pulled away from his bruised earlobe, “Not until I regain my strength at least.” 

“As you wish, Albert,” a smirk formed at the edge of Captain Nicholls’ voice as he brushed his cheek against his inferior’s in parting, his hand cupping the delicate nape tilted the face aside as he took in another supple earlobe and mumbled after withdrawing from the soft skin, “Of course you’ve never told me to stop.” 

“Y-yes-! N-n-no-!” the young man’s hands moved from the wall where he kept them to hold himself up, he put one over the man’s collarbone and the other to his still-clothed chest to signal the very much needed slow in tempo, he gasped as another wave of the tongue passed under his ear, “All in good time, sir. Please!” 

Long arms wrapped about his body and threw him on a bed, his upper torso falling atop layers of down pillows and newly turned sheets, the captain following instantly, Albert’s eyebrows furrowed in fearful confusion, embarrassment’s red coloring his cheeks as lips descended to his. He clapped his palms over Captain Nicholls’ mouth and drew in a deep breath, he whispered hurriedly with honesty which he could not feign, “Give me a moment to collect myself, sir.” 

The young man felt a smile stretch beneath his palm as Captain Nicholls sat back on his knees, drawing the splayed legs up and folding the left knee over his quivering chest, the boot came off his foot along with the socks. Albert shivered as he awkwardly pressed both upper halves of his arms up into the grinning lips, one of his captain’s hands disengaged from the half-naked leg, the warm palm grazing agonizingly slow over his bare shins to the cloth bunched about his knees, the long fingers touching along the seam of his buttoned up fly. He instinctively squeezed his thighs together to keep the wandering fingers away, but only succeeding in loosening the fabric around the buttons, the ruddy fingertips easily snapped the first button off. The young man shook his head feebly in protest, tears of sweet agony and shame leaking down the corner of his eyes as the captain dug a thumb under the fabric, a forefinger over the button and the last three digits stroking over the sensitive peak in his trousers. 

A whimper passed his teeth, the sound looking so sinfully etched on his beautiful features, the captain thought as he observed the red lips shivering, the brightly-lit brown hair once combed so neatly from Albert’s utmost right crown off to the left fell out of place, the stray strands curling and seemingly stark blonde against his sunlit face, pirouetting particles of cotton and down drifting across the pale skin and leaking tears, glass-blue irises shining in rings around dark pupils. He peeled the next two buttons off the trousers’ slit and quickly unclipped the suspenders from the high waistband of the young man’s pants, he drew the straps aside and pulled the pants leg material off the still-folded leg. He drew the underwear and uniform pants off one hip, he laid the bare leg down at his side over his own spread knees and took the other ankle in hand, he pulled off the boot and motioned as if to lick just above the pale ankle, his tongue working feverishly against Albert’s fingers, which still pressed against his lips. 

The young man withdrew his saliva-coated fingers, a hand went to the hem of his pants still on his hip and pulled down over his leg, the stiff crinkled material brushing roughly and candidly against the leaking tip of his arousal as he instinctively bit his lower lip. The sun splashing autumn gold through the window stung his eyes, but not as much as the torture he would never have guessed that possessed his captain. Chaste touches he so purely enjoyed when they were platonic and mutual took another turn: that which was only need, months of yearning, years of overwhelming desire poured into each blink of the green eyes, every brush of his ruddy hands. He felt a pair of hands push the hem of his shirt up slowly, mostly out of impatience, he focused, moreover stared out through the tear-hazed vision his eyes painted, first seeing two green gems placed in a cloudy bronze-gold illumination. Too weak to care or protest, the first two buttons of his shirt snapped open as the captain pulled the garment and undershirt over his head and threw it somewhere not showered by the sun. 

Nothing prepared him for the satisfaction Captain Nicholls felt right then as he drank in the young soldier’s body, his fingertips roaming, his palms passing between soft and hard. Long cords of adult muscle wrapped and stretched tense under Albert’s skin, a fine dusting of short gold hair tickled the underside of the captain’s palms as he ran his hands over the thick forearms and slightly adolescent pectorals, erect pink discs a slightly darker color than his lips graced daintily on his chest, the sun leant very slight shadowed definition to his rising and falling abdomen, it’s shape and firmness visible to the naked eye. He curiously brushed his thumb down the stiff muscles to the smooth ring of skin, the navel leapt beneath his fingertip, he lifted he young man’s right knee over his shoulder and bit down lightly on the pale skin, adding a red-dotted oval shape where his teeth nipped the flawless skin. 

He took Albert’s hand and whispered, his body leaning over the slighter frame as he guided the shy fingers past the still-clothed erection to the prominent knot below his beltline, “Here. Feel.” 

The young man experimentally squeezed with his fingertips, earning a shudder from the man propped over his body, he curiously cupped with his palm over the throbbing protuberance, the smooth voice moaned deeply against his lower lip, “-for you, Albert.” 

“I-” Albert squeezed one more time to reassure the reality of the situation, his eyes flew open, he had no words to explain what half-formed thoughts ran through his head, he gasped, “I- how do you-! I don’t know-” 

“Take your time, it’s fine,” Captain Nicholls chuckled, he began unbuttoning his shirt before his inferior officer, holding the bashfully curious gaze as he peeled his upper garment apart, he pulled his undershirt over his head and settled bodily over the naked young man. 

Albert put both hands between his raised legs, one hand on the fly of his captain’s pants, the other counting off buttons before he stared up in fascination as the green eyes winced, the lips parted in a throaty panting hiss as his finger opened the buttons. He hooked his forefinger into the hem of the elastic shorts band and dragged the material edge down, he gasped as their erections touched, sending long tremors through their bodies. He experimentally rolled his hips up, the tip of his erection grazing along his captain’s lower abdomen, a breathless moan escaped his lips as his back arched against the torso propped up from his own. A hot tongue dove into his open lips, barely breaching past his teeth as his hips dipped back down on to the bed. He leaned his body up from the pillows piled beneath him and touched his lips to the captain’s open mouth, instantly deepening their kiss, Albert whimpered helplessly as the captain pried his lips open with a simple slide of their jaws. An arm lay fixed under his neck, the other hand going between their bodies and wrapping around Albert’s leaking hardness, he bit his lip before another moan could leave him. 

He kissed the young soldier so sweetly, the essence of his yearning tasting the flavor waiting behind the mouth whispering urgently to him, the hands once more frantically fighting to push him away, but at the same time grasped him around his shoulders as he tugged the pulsing erection, “-wait-! W-w-wait!” 

“James, please-!” Albert gasped, his eyes and face already broken in pleasure, his breath ragged and his self control waning after each touch, he gathered his wits about himself before asking so innocently, “You’re not leaving again, are you?” 

“If I’m not near, I’m never far,” Captain Nicholls felt his heart breaking, his demeanor softening the once selfish touches he put the young man through, his eyes flashed as he whispered, “If I can’t be reached, my love for you closes the distance.” 

“Since laying eyes on you, I knew to whom my heart belonged to, Albert,” he said, leaning back a touch to disengage himself from the clutching arms and legs which wrapped themselves about his waist comfortably, his lips touching the whimpering mouth once and pressing a kiss to the trembling jaw. 

“Me?” Albert mumbled low, a finger trailing over his lower lip, he felt his erection jump at the tip brushed against the captain’s chest, his heart beating seemingly outside of his ribcage while he ingested slowly where Captain Nicholls headed. 

“I was confused too,” the superior officer smiled, his face dipping as Albert watched his lips press to his hipbone, then warmly a touch below his navel, “But I was so sure about this. You. Everything.” 

He imagined the events leading to this moment, the order of these very actions as much as a few hours’ worth of sleep would allow, Captain Nicholls without further ado licked the slender shaft, finding the clean-scrubbed taste different and flavor mysterious, but all the same addicting, his tongue licking from base to tip again. He watched the lightning bolt-like strike the young man, the pale body tensing and releasing in rapid heated spasms each time he repeated the action, he heard the pitching whimpers deepening and just as easily teetering on the edge of blissful gasps. He watched the chest rise before a silent shout, and fall as the last half of his breath rushed away, leaving the still-convulsing tenseness in the pale limbs and erection twitching. 

Albert gripped the sheets since that was all he could do to hold back from allowing his hands to act upon their carnal evils, his body again snapped rigid and relaxed with aching fatigue, he felt his captain’s lips ring around his penis tip and sucked. He shut his eyes, hands holding his hips down into the mattress and leaving him with limited movement, he cringed to the throaty moan when the mouth around his penis dipped into his splayed lap and pulled away. The sobs flowed from pleasure wringing luxurious suckling actions from his captain, he threw his head back and grit his teeth when something pressed between his legs, he wished to say no more, but instead managed a halting moan. Those plush lips pulled back up only to fall forcefully on the base of his erection, he felt himself leaking steadily, waiting for something more that would swallow the woes of the world even if for a moment he forgot himself. 

The lips tightened around him, sending his senses spiraling and body trembling harshly, the spasms leaving warmly throbbing muscles in his skin, he could hardly believe that his twitching limbs or flexing torso belonged to himself, the only control he dared to break from his captain’s hold being his eyes and teeth as he continued to bite off silent moans before they had the chance to become screams, and shut his eyes away from the face that rose over the peaks of his chest and fell hard to the base of his erection. Figments of imagination so real, he half-heartedly believed himself the first few minutes, Albert watched Captain Nicholls’ head rise, a left hand gripping his twitching right knee before his very face and licked behind the sensitive joint of his limp leg, a fever rolled under his skin as he muffled the tiniest of mewls into a knuckle. 

The mouth began nibbling ever so sweetly as his heel was laid to a muscular shoulder, he nearly just sobbed pitifully into his teeth-bruised knuckle as two fingers gently pulled his nipples painfully taut, the tiny pink areolas blushing and alive with flashing warm pulses over his chest. Perfect teeth used for smiling bit scarlet patterns on the underside of his thigh, gradually migrating inward back to his penis, the warm lips soothing over the gentle bites the nearer they came hand in hand to Albert’s aching need, his straining erection which slid home back into his mouth and to the slick, hot ring at the back of the contracting throat. The fingertips pinched sharply once and added a deep hot thrumming stabbing through the young man’s spine, he arched his back as he stroked his unused hand through the short gold-riddled copper strands twisting in loose waves around his fingers, each lock brushing softly the inner webbings and underside of his hands. 

Captain Nicholls groaned appreciatively to his gentle attention, his idle left hand settling over the tense jaw, his thumb tracing the curve of skin and cartilage of the flushed ear, his forefinger stroking the short clipped hairs of the captain’s groomed sideburns and the cropped strands behind the edge of the ear. The throat tightened and coaxed his entirety in flexing hot coils of wet muscle, he cried out, feeling something unstoppable, an inevitable heat building and seizing his body in it’s sense-blinding grasp, the edges of his consciousness blurring as his bruised hand felt out his captain, to feel the unseen strength pulling his body through a loophole. His right palm rested upon the outstretched neck, just under the ruddy ear, his fingertips tickling along the groomed nape hairs and thumb stroking the longer russet waves, he sensed the authority easily shown to him as his body snapped rigid, his lips forming no words, his erection at first leaking, then unleashing blinding white torrents washing up around his tense limbs, drowning him under leagues of his own muscle and skin burning in the many shades of spilled inner pleasure. 

The superior officer woke him from his own daze, the lips salted by his essence but all the same still ample and deep connected to his, the tongue diving into his mouth and sweeping against his own dormant organ, reigniting the extinguished cold flames licking his senses back to life. A hand reached back between his legs, the blunt fingernails raking up the tiny bits of swallowed stickiness and feeling their way downward, the thumb stroking the skin of his sac, the young soldier once again snapped up, his muscles rigid, every nerve alit and pulsing alive under his skin, his skin seemingly thrumming, beating aware with apprehension and slight fear. Doubting to ever be hurt by the man who loved him since setting eyes upon him, he repeated to himself that there was nothing to be afraid of, his body placing half it’s knowing trust in his self-assurance as he felt a finger stroke over his entrance. 

A worried gasp broke their kiss only a breath’s space, the captain brushed his lips over the two tiny beauty spots below Albert’s right cheekbone, the other just below, breathing in his faint scent, a left hand still rubbing circles around his nipple. Just as easily as he forgot, he was abruptly reminded of the fingers nestled between his lower cheeks, the remaining wetness eased what he felt was a fingertip into his body, a shudder brought his body into a deeper awareness as the mouth left wide, gaping kisses over his ear, the sounds of his captain’s stifled groans amplifying as the lips closed over the flesh of his ear, and the tongue delving under his earlobe, all sense of time slipped from him as the fingertip slid past his opening. He shut his eyes to the pulsing burn which fueled every other nerve standing on end just below his skin, their lit tips seeming as if to be another creature altogether, yet how strongly each strand rooted into his body and pulled to him like strings on a puppet made him remind himself that here and now was in fact Real. Safe. At peace. 

The finger curled within him just barely half past the second knuckle, the thumb laying outside of his body stroked the tiny expanse between his tightly drawn sacs and where his body snugly gripped the forefinger within himself. The wet tongue working inside the half-tunnels of his right ear and the appreciative growls echoing silently to his standing erection beckoned a sound from his throat, a sweet little gasp from his lips signaled the thumb to pursue further, to dare beyond any act he never dreamed or dared beside to the handsome young man beneath him. He lightly pinched the perineum with his thumb resting on the outside of the soft skin, and his forefinger only just making progress inside the young soldier’s arse, he guessed and brought both his fingers to meet as much as the sensitive layer of skin would allow, causing Albert to arch up into his chest. His finger slipped out from inside the heated twin peaks, he scooped his own leaking precum from the underside and tip of his throbbing penis and attempted once more. 

Albert sobbed against his captain’s nape, the finger cruelly digging slowly, deeply into his body, he begged with as many words as he could remember which all the pleasure stole from his vocabulary, he clutched his right arm over the flexing shoulder blades and his left grasping at the captain’s right hand. He cried softly, urgently through the falling tears into the space between Captain Nicholls’ neck and ear, “-please-! -no more, no more-! I can’t-!” 

He at last seized and cried out against the superior officer’s ear, his moan filling the space between their touching skin, their mixing sheens of sweat, the thumb rubbed in firm circles throughout the expanse of his perineum, the forefinger inside him finally breached to the last knuckle pressed experimentally to a core centered within his body, going all so many years unknowing about the area as the remaining three fingers stroked his tailbone and the edged around his swelled opening with their gentle tips. Again, the finger pressed more firmly, his vision went black for a moment until the same finger pressed a little harder against the soft knot of nerves, a shiver overtook him while Captain Nicholls stroked teasingly over the inner knot, the light sweeps of the fingertip and first immersed knuckle driving him on the brink of insanity. 

His breath escaping as easily as he filled his chest with air, he stared through overflowing eyes to the man’s russet waves to his right, the mouth working shades of red into his jugular, the tongue glazing over his heating skin, sweeping over his jumping muscles, teeth biting lightly into his sinew. The left hand twisted his nipple ever so slightly, following with a pinch and a light tug, Albert cried headily, “James-!” 

A tiny lapse in attention and near-insignificant loosening in Albert’s inner muscles prompted the captain to slip in a second finger, he hissed-gasped inside his throat as the two joined fingertips rubbed wholly over his internal core nerves. He easily forgave the burning intrusion as he shakily moaned and shivered against the body above him, the left hand departed from his nipple and dove down between the plush cushion of piled pillows, trailing between his shoulder blades and over his tailbone, the middle finger leading the palm and arm until Albert lay atop his captain’s arm. The long thumb, index and middle finger squeezing his lower cheek as the last two parted the other half of muscle to ease the two right fingers’ exit. He shouted as the two fingers thrust back in and rubbed his innermost nerves before parting, the fingers spread as a third entered, he unconsciously drew the captain closer with the heels of his legs, a pained cry tore from his chest as a deep groan erupted from aside his neck. 

The captain pulled his three fingers away and instead cupped Albert’s tailbone as he scooted his knees forward and dipped his hips. The young man shouted against the crown of his head, but so hotly velvety tight the ring of muscle felt covering only just the very crest of his penis, precum leaked over the outspread cheeks as he anticipated the squeeze he was all too readily prepared for. His hips slowly worked in, shallow but firm nudges until the muscles parted, the young man thrashed under him, pain shooting from his tailbone to his head, heat spreading down his legs and up his abdomen, agony radiated around the forced open area of his body, he breathed deeply and found he instinctively embraced the captain to his chest. He felt his erection tip touching a ripple of abdomen muscle, he welcomed the sensation, which also meant inviting the agony to continue, Captain Nicholls complied and thrust deeply. 

Thousands upon thousands of strands entwined inside his body shivered and plucked beneath his skin, he heard an apologetic tone whispering into his chin, whilst green eyes guiltily looked on into his own, “I’m sorry. I should have prepared you more.” 

Albert’s voice came out in a squeak behind his throat instead of shaping words of assurance, he instead leaned forward and cupped the handsome face in his hands, his lips answering the apology with a thousand pardons without the use of speech. He nodded against the lips as they nipped, teeth clicking against one another, tongues sweeping to and around one another, he gasped as he felt his captain shift his own knees high around a pair of strong elbows, a pair of muscled thighs migrating beneath his lower back and spreading to accommodate their range of movement. He moaned while a left finger flicked his right nipple, the hips drawing away slowly, he felt his internal muscles contract impulsively as his captain’s length withdrew, and the newly discovered areas within him throb in sudden loss of touch. The hips bucked in none-too gently, their fulfilled groans ripped away as sensations mostly new and hardly familiar washed their wrapped bodies in veils of burning ice and freezing fires. 

The sensations too much to take in at once subsided as quickly as it flashed, wearing so very gradually away to a dull glow in their limbs, he rolled his hips inward, and the hot-cold waves returned with a vengeance, allowing their moans to mix into the kiss. Captain Nicholls staved off the urge to outwardly allow his lower parts to think for him, focusing on the young man, he broke their melded lips away to take in all that built his imagination for the past several years trudging through inhuman acts of violence, with only two horses to remind him of his many times tested will, to find Albert Narracott and break himself free from the insufferable madness clutching to his heart, so unrelenting and sweetly he was held the sentiments in his chest. He gazed at the delirious eyes roving and searching his own, lips swollen and bruised in the most obscene yet fitting shades of red, eyelashes still holding the dew of fresh tears and cheeks inflamed, such a beautiful, lonely young wonder this young man was, he thought to himself as he whispered: 

“You have my soul, Albert,” so many years of never having uttered so little words which were three words too many fell from his lips, falling so deeply and ringing so wholly within the young man’s ears, he kept their gazes locked, entranced how eyes so wide and innocent could fit on a face equally as masculine and childish, he found the will to speak what he wanted to say, “My heart was always your’s. I love you.” 

Albert had nothing to say that could sum his surprise, his confusion and most of all a growing seed which grew first in his mind, the idea and emotion taking root inside his heart so long ago that he had mistaken it for friendship. He smiled and wiped his tears from his eyelashes and whispered the same three words into his captain’s ears, feeling the shoulder blades in his hands stiffen as he whispered so low and sweetly but honestly, rather not going through the painstaking process of Explaining how he thought of his superior officer those years alone, waiting in Devon, praying, hoping that the new day would deliver his friends home, “As is mine.” 

Arms wrapping around his neck, Captain Nicholls gave in, his hips already setting a rhythm, long, slow thrusts into the tight little heat, though somewhat relaxed, it still had such a hold that he nearly let go of his self control. Albert gasped into his lips, their tongues once again lapping, nudging, prying and gently exploring, he squeezed the cheeks before hauling both knees over his elbows and planting his arms on either side of the twitching torso, pleasure so pure running amok in their veins as he thrust in a little harder, but all the same still gently. The young man disengaged an arm from his shoulder and ran a hand through his hair, mussing his combed back copper strands more than previously, their tongues tasted one another, the strong purity mingling with the overwhelmingly light boldness lining their lips as the thrusts grew deeper, the pace gradually building as did the pressure merging below their navels, the burning in the depths at the base of their spine. 

Albert fought the urge to squeeze down as he did by accident, he instead felt such an addictive friction rubbing the underside and tip of his erection, the breathy moans and deep sighs escaped him easier now that embarrassment gave away to his will to give himself fully while at the same time accepting the lust from the man who loved him. The thought and actions made his gestures more gentle, strong yet mild, curious yet willing, he cringed by reflex as the nerves were plunged upon entry and brushed during exiting, the pattern only driving and spurring Captain Nicholls even more to hear, feel, taste and remember the result of pleasing his beloved. Pale arms wrapping around his shoulders as he felt such a hot grip taking hold of him that he strove for that same sensation trapping him, and all the same welcoming him, the young man’s cries echoing along with his own as he reached between their grinding bodies. 

The young soldier felt his erection in his captain’s grasp, the thumb circling roughly over his engorged head and squeezing friction working down his length and back to the tip to again rub the sensitive top, he nearly screamed as the thrusts began angling up into the area dead center between his hipbones and under his skin, he cried out. His arms gripping the shoulders as his low whimpers and shouts were easily consumed, the sounds drowning out their pain, their loneliness, the death surrounding them replaced by a love only they had for one another, their deeply-ingrained trust. His bruised lips gasped openly, their over sensitized skin flush and alive with the changing rubbing of their bodies, he grasped his fingertips, raking over and over the solid muscles rippling in cadence as their bodies touched briefly and departed just a suddenly, a pair of hands grasped his hips and began dragging his body. 

The hips slammed down into his thighs as the hands on his hips yanked from and pulled him back, he cringed his hands at the pillows bouncing him easily to the new pace Captain Nicholls set, a hand parted from his bruised hipbone and guided his idle palms to his erection. His muscles cringed at the new sensations washing over him, he cried out emptily into the air, the penis still thrusting ever so lustfully somehow seemed to wide or long to belong where it was inside his body, tearing him in two and sending so many strange ripples of heat through his spine. His hands barely knew their own way around himself, so he only rubbed around the sensitive tip and experimentally ran his loose palm down to the base, he inwardly hissed and instead opened his eyes to the new world surrounding them. His eyes finding those of his captain, green embers smoldering as they roved from his hand, to his leaking erection, to his inflamed nipples, the kiss-bruises behind both ears and on the right side of his lower neck, finally meeting his gaze. 

They held as he lay jarred by hard thrusts, his lips slightly open and eyebrows furrowed in shy sensuality, the movement of muscle and skin rippling with power and towering over his seemingly meek form made his throat dry, his tongue wet with saliva and oh so aroused that he drove his captain to such lengths to show how alone he felt, how he was unknowingly lusted after. His torso seized one final time, every exhausted muscle compacting and tense, white overtaking all but the green eyes watching him, he shouted, “James!” 

Captain Nicholls snapped his hips forward into the velvety heat cringed almost too tightly around him, his abdomen compacting as he poured himself within the young soldier, the liquid washing out completely his solitude and filling him with a glow, he whispered the young man’s name over and over as he settled softly over the slighter body. Their chests touching in the quick, deep breaths, after nearly an hour of laying so nearly still, Albert opened his eyes, blinking slowly up at his newfound beloved, a gentle hand brushed his hair aside as their lips touched. 

Albert never understood how he dropped off to sleep, but he awoke scrubbed and in his Sunday finery, green eyes searching his in the early noon. He moved only slightly below the covers and hissed at an ache radiating in his lower back and between his legs, he watched as his captain stood with ease and gently sat him up. He found moving difficult but manageable as he was helped down into the stables where Joey stood happily munching cut grass, he dared not ask how Joey was taken from the inn clear across town or how he was dressed in the clothes he arrived in. Albert saddled up his thoroughbred, and was even more taken aback as he realized that sitting was the challenge as he swung a leg up onto Joey’s back, he turned to the next stall where it stood absent of Topthorn. 

He let out an abashed sigh as he trotted out to the main roads, up behind came heavy hooves, and a hand over his elbow, “Isn’t it the blind who sees the heart the clearest?” 

Before he could object, the captain swept him from the saddle into a gentle reassuring kiss, and smiled to Albert’s suddenly bashful awkwardness, he shook his head but still could not help the relieved curve of his lips, “This isn’t at all very sporting, James.” 

“Who said it was for sport?” the captain asked, he urged Topthorn forward to match Joey’s easy strides, “I meant everything, and I thought of how to make a living, also.” 

“A living in your hometown?” Albert’s interest amused Captain Nicholls to no end, he grinned at the brightness twinkling in the blue eyes. 

“More or less,” he shrugged, he saw the conclusions running through the young man’s face, those plush pink lips being nervously nibbled. 

“I’ve been thinking, with your training talents and my entrepreneurial skills-” the captain said, bringing the bashful eyes to rest upon his again with wholehearted attention, “-we could be business partners.” 

“You could show and teach me the necessities of your life and I’ll take to heart your lessons,” he finished as Albert’s face lit with a grin baring all the dashed hopes and new dreams written the years they were apart. Joey sped off with his owner throwing the reins to the wind and arms grasping strands of the slight settled fog up into the wind, Topthorn followed after with his own passenger doing the same, diving headlong into the unknown with the boy who grew into a man without his help. The restrained laugh he held since first riding Joey burst from his lips, his chest and throat carrying the sound as it echoed through the empty back roads and autumn-colored fields. 

“Well! That’s something you don’t see every day,” Rose said after a minute as she saw her son and a strange man riding, laughing down the road, she somehow took an instant shine to the stranger the closer they came. 

“Let him off the hook, Rosie, he’s trying to be free of the subject,” Ted grumbled happily at the approach of the new soon-to-be farmhand. 

“As long as that Mister Lyons can keep his nose under his hat, I don’t mind the unusual company,” Rose smiled as she thought of all the new ways to drive their former landlord out of their private business, “Love, I do so hope he’s nothing like the younger Lyons.”

**Author's Note:**

> finished at 4:07 in the fucking morning & the product of pron-blue-balls


End file.
